Seeds of Turmoil
by bezerkoid
Summary: The Doctor arrives on Erebus, a world humans are attempting to colonise. But what are these strange being who attack humans and why is there tension between groups of soldiers?
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: I'm ****now starting a new project on Doctor Who. Don't worry about my other stories, their chapters are presently being written.**

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The first thing that Private Woolmer heard that evening was the sound of rain hitting the tents.

The weather on Erebus was always terrible. Often it would pour so much a man would have to turn his sleeping bag inside out to stay dry. Other times, it would snow heavily and then all melt, leaving thick layers of ice you often slipped on, injuring your head or rear end, both of which were more or less equally painful.

Despite numerous requests for better accommodation, such as trailers, the group still slept in tents, even though soldiers were giving more complaints of food that could not be eaten, infected wounds and higher disease rates. The camp was almost unanimous in its complaining about those who lived in the bunker, who got light, warmth and good accommodation.

Moaning from outside attracted Woolmer's attention, and he unzipped the tent to find Corporal Haynes by what had, just before the rain arrived, been a campfire cooking the food for that evening.

"Well, this certainly ruins the plan for egg and sausages this evening."

Corporal Haynes was not alone in his disappointment. Many had suggested cooking inside a tent, but often this set both their food and tent on fire.

Sighing, Woolmer went into the tent and pulled out a packet of Penguin chocolate biscuits. They tasted good, but if they ate them after tonight they would probably be sick.

A sudden scream alerted them, and instantly Woolmer dropped the biscuits, following Haynes to the noise.

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In the main part of the camp, men were being dragged into the shadows by shambling humanoid forms. Nobody could see what was going on properly, but perhaps that was a good thing. Either way, the camp was under attack.

Men screamed while younger recruits wet themselves, and a few aimed into the shadows, attempting to kill their assailants. The shots largely failed to hit their mark, and if any of them did kill an attacker, they did not fall out of the shadow.

As the shadows moved forwards, the attackers got nearer and nearer, causing the gradual disappearance of most men.

Eventually, only ten were left out of the fifty that had been in the camp to start. Running as quick as possible, they attempted to break through the shadows, which they succeeded, losing two men in the process.

In terror, and desperation, the men fled away from the camp, with Corporal Haynes and Private Woolmer among them…

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A loud, grating and wheezing sound echoed throughout the ruins of the camp, and a police box appeared next to where Woolmer's tent was, now unoccupied and soaking.

The police box door opened, and the Tenth Doctor stepped outside, immediately noticing the damp weather.

"Wow, have people here never heard of umbrellas? They honestly need them if they're going to remain dry at all."

Briefly stopping to put on his coat, he set out, noticing the abandoned tents and abandoned food. The campfire was out, as you would expect in such weather.

The things that surprised the Doctor most were the rifles and handguns all clattered about. He then figured this was probably a military reconnaissance camp before civilian colonisation was allowed, just to guard the builders and such. Obviously it had been abandoned, that was already evident, though he didn't understand why military men would just drop their equipment before leaving.

A horrid thought suddenly struck him. The men might not have all disappeared. In fact, they might not have left the camp. At least not alive.

While making conclusions when he was completely absorbed in confusion and fear, the Doctor failed to see the shadows surround him.

He turned around to see a humanoid figure try and grab him…

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**In future chapters of this story, ****this won't be as rushed. I realise the Doctor only got a cameo in comparison to the other parts of the story he wasn't in, but hopefully you'll understand it isn't easy to transfer from zombies and Halo to Doctor Who. Constructive criticism please…**


	2. Colonisation and Capture

**Author's notes: Thanks a lot for taking an interest in my stories, it is appreciated.**

**Hopefully this story will get a bit more focus when Quarantine Prequel finishes. Either way, hope you enjoy this fairly brief chapter…**

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The sound of gunfire surprised the Doctor as his attacker fell on the floor and lay still.

Turning to see through the fog, the Doctor saw a man dressed in the uniform of the 237th Ridleybank Regiment, one of the human empire's many military organisations. This regiment were among the elite of humankind's military forces and would remain so for a very long time.

"There's a man still alive in this camp!"

Taking a second look, the Doctor realised that there were two other soldiers with him. The trio must have been sent on patrol.

"Wait a second, let me see."

The second man rushed through, carrying first aid supplies and a pistol.

"You're right. But why is he in civilian clothes?"

The third man scared both the Doctor and the other soldiers by the way he acted next.

"WELL, I'LL BE DAMNED! A CIVILIAN ON EREBUS? COLONISATION HASN'T STARTED YET!"

The man stormed through the fog, raising a fairly old-looking pistol. Well, old was slightly incorrect, but the model appeared to be early 21st century, out of date for this age. But the Doctor didn't care.

"Erebus hasn't been colonised yet? That means I'm in the year…" The Doctor paused to check his facts. "…2543. Brilliant place, Erebus. Well, when it's colonised. I remember there were clowns who could juggle knives with their feet while playing a flute, oh but the accidents-"

The third soldier was astounded at him.

"How did you remember anything of Erebus? None of that has happened yet!"

The Doctor hesitated.

"Well, I have an advantage in terms of time, so to speak."

The man grabbed the Doctor's coat.

"No you don't. You've just been driven insane by what you've seen."

The Doctor frowned at this. This soldier was the one who seemed insane, not him. Wisely however, the Time Lord kept his mouth shut.

"Get him into the back of the truck. We'll question him later. We'll come back for the body later."

The Doctor was pulled along gently by the two other soldiers, who evidently seemed reluctant to follow the orders of their superior who they seemed to hate, and also unwilling to use brutal force on a man who looked completely harmless.

As the other men got into the truck and the vehicle drove off, the Doctor noticed the corpse had gone…

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The destination in question was a high-tech, high security bunker which the humans were presumably using as their primary headquarters. The Doctor at first marvelled it, and then reminded himself that the other men had to live in bad quality camps.

Marched in at gunpoint, the Doctor was worried about what would happen next...

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**OK, the chapter was really short, but I just wanted to get something done for this and be able to keep the other stories going too. Sorry for the briefness once again, and please review constructively…**


	3. Silence and insanity

**Author's notes: This document may or may not get uploaded properly as I am using a public terminal. Not because I have a broken PC or anything, but I am currently visiting someone at a public location and this is more or less all I can do because my parents and the person I'm visiting are preoccupied.**

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The Doctor was promptly forced into the giant bunker at gunpoint by the two reluctant soldiers and the tall man who appeared to be in charge of the military forces here.

As usual, the Doctor's marvel and dislike for objects of all eras clearly stuck out.

"Oh, mobile vending machines! Just like trolleys on 21st century airplanes. I remember they used celebrity voices for some! Blimey, Michael Wisher scared the young ones…"

The tall man walked around and stopped in front of him, his thick moustache moving with an apparent life of its own.

"Shut up!"

The Doctor did so for about another twenty seconds before he noticed something that _really_ did not appeal to him.

"Those portable generators were banned on Earth, how have they got here? They were responsible for the ruining of a colony! All those innocent-"

The Doctor was interrupted by a punch to the back, causing him to stagger. If it were not for the two men who were escorting him, he would have fallen forwards and landed flat on his face.

"When I tell you to shut it, you shut it until I give you permission to speak! Have I given you permission to speak?"

The Time Lord was hesitant to answer, but eventually did so.

"No."

Immediately, he felt the man's ape-like fist hit his stomach and he winced again.

"Trick question, civilian. You weren't meant to answer at all. Oh, how many people have fallen for that now? About twenty or so?"

The soldier to his right evidently was confused.

"Sir, if he's a civilian and you just hit him twice, haven't you just committed assault?

The man spent almost no time thinking about it.

"I'll say he's resisting arrest."

"We're not police."

"What about attacking us and trying to hurt us? I disarmed him and he's being taken for questioning."

The men sighed.

"Sir, that isn't going to work."

The leader completely flipped at this point.

"I'LL COME TO THAT DAMN BIT WHEN IT COMES UP AGAIN! RIGHT NOW I AM BUSY, CORPORAL!"

The men reluctantly shut up as well, helping the Doctor up. The group continued on, though the leader was well out of earshot now. The Doctor leaned over to the soldier on his right.

"Wow, and people say I'm annoying. Your commanding officer must have failed several sanity exams…"

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**Sorry for the shortness of this chapter, just I am in a hurry and can't send it via public terminal. **


	4. Ropes, dog tags and escape

**Author's notes: Sorry for the long amount of time it's taken for an update, but it's hard to get five presently-running stories working while you have loads more being written out before actual work even starts on them. It's even harder when you get distracted by the things around you.**

**Anyway, I thought the Doctor could do with an update. Let's find out who these soldiers are…**

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The Doctor sat on a chair, his arms tied behind his back with ropes. With his sonic screwdriver it wouldn't be a problem to break out, but the Time Lord wanted to know as much about his capturers as possible. Besides, these men were armed and he didn't think an attempt to escape would result in being handcuffed again.

"Let's see what the charges are then, civilian."

The officer who looked slightly insane had taken a look at some notes he must have written a few minutes ago.

"Ah, yes. Trespassing on military premises, refusal to cooperate with Empire military personnel, speaking out of turn. You could get a pretty serious sentence for this, Mr-"

The man broke off as he did not know the Doctor's name. The Time Lord realised this and decided to risk speaking.

"Permission to give my name, officer?"

The man sighed, evidently annoyed that this newcomer had forced him into a position where he had to talk.

"Permission granted, but as soon as you've told me, you shut up again."

The Time Lord took a deep breath and began speaking.

"I'm the Doctor."

"Just the Doctor?"

The Doctor gave a nod, afraid he would be hit if he spoke to confirm this. The officer did not hit him, instead continuing with what he was about to say.

"As I was about to say, the sentence for this is pretty serious. Also, while we're on the subject, we got a distress call from the camp, but we took too long getting supplies to help anyone. When we arrive about ten minutes later, there's scattered military gear, but no corpses. The only things alive there are the thing that Private Green shot and you."

The Doctor frowned, failing to see how this was relevant.

"Therefore, as the only human there, you are a terrorist suspect."

The Time Lord knew that the officer would probably hit him if he spoke out of turn, but this was ridiculous.

"How can I be a terrorist suspect, Sergeant Major Norton?"

The soldier was annoyed now. Not only had this newcomer dared to speak out of turn several times, and now he claimed to know him.

"How do you know my name?"

The Doctor gave a smile and used the sonic screwdriver to cut the ropes. He then produced a shiny bit of metal on a chain from his pocket.

"You dropped your dog tags while hitting me. It's only fair that I get something back for your unreasonable assault."

Sergeant Major Norton quickly pulled out a revolver, but before any shots could be fired he found the weapon out of his hands and hurled out the window.

"You won't get away that easily."

"Oh, who said I was getting away? You're right, I'd be unable to! I need to get information, and this bunker must be full of that!"

The Time Lord then ran off, leaving Sergeant Major Norton confused.

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Corporal Haynes could not believe he had ended up wandering through fields as a result of leaving the camp to escape from those things.

For the past hour, he had been leading seven other survivors of the camp attack across fields in an attempt to get to the bunker. So far, they had not been hurt, but something told him that the enemy they had encountered was still nearby.

Private Woolmer was among those who had escaped the massacre. He was nervously clutching his rifle and looked as if he was about to panic completely. Woolmer was afraid the attackers would come back for survivors.

Ultimately, his fears would prove true as three of the attackers from earlier emerged from the shadows…

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**So the Doctor appears to be looking for some information and the attackers are coming back to the story. I'll try giving a bit more detail on them later.**

**Sorry for the late upload, but now my computer's internet appears to have stopped completely and I can't upload documents from my PC which is normally the quickest thing to do.**


	5. Lockdown and the abominable

**Author's notes: Not much to say at the moment except that this chapter should give another look at the main villain (or villains, depending on how you want to put it), not just a stupid military man.**

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The humanoid being stood completely submerged in shadow, the only thing in any form of light being a mechanical group of talons attached to a metallic gauntlet. Cackling filled the room.

"The humans have either been killed or forced to flee. Presently our attack force is scouting for the survivors."

The being growled evidently annoyed that its minions had failed to completely clear the camp.

"I demanded a swift takeover of the camp with nobody to escape! The last thing I need is for a small group of humans to punch their way through our attack and reach headquarters!"

The first voice came through the room again.

"Sir, we massacred forty of the humans before any escape was attempted. The remaining ten attempted to leave the camp, but two died in the actual plan. The final eight are being attacked now."

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"For god's sake, open fire now!"

Forming a square, with two men on each side, the team opened fire.

Bullets whizzed into their attackers, but they stubbornly refused to fall. Shadow whirled around them, refusing to show the assailants of the surviving soldiers.

Woolmer growled, raising his rifle and aiming just above the shoulder. His accuracy was rewarded with his target falling to the floor. He yelled in triumph and raised his rifle to attack again.

Then he felt cold, clammy hands drag him forwards.

He looked upwards, getting a glimpse of his attacker. As soon as he saw he, he wished that he'd lost his eyesight instead.

His attacker was clad in his uniform, but was considerably worse for wear. His flesh had been stripped off partially on his limbs, and it was hard to spot where his throat was. The hands were decaying, and dead.

Kicking and flailing, he managed to grab his pistol and put a shot through the former soldier's head, causing him to drop. He rushed back to the line, firing in a rushed and frenzied manner. Then he realised that fellow Privates Shield, Clarke and Bates were missing, just as the attackers withdrew.

Corporal Haynes turned to him.

"What were they?"

Woolmer didn't answer.

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The Doctor ran out the room and found himself in a different corridor. He must have gone through a different door. It didn't matter.

The Sergeant Major would probably swiftly recover and lock down the base after raising the alarm very shortly. That gave him not a lot of time to gather information before he was caught. There was no getting away from something this secure, even for him.

Taking a deep breath, he dashed to the left, knocking over some janitor supplies and spilling them over an ammunition crate.

"Ooh, that looks a slippery situation."

Grinning at his pun, he kept running- briefly pausing as he heard an alarm- until he found a door marked "Archives". He stared at it for a few moments. Archives might have local development, or just records of humanity's empire rising. It was risky and he might get locked in the wrong area.

"Oh well," he sighed, though his voice was full of optimism. "Never got anywhere without taking risks."

Reaching for the handle, he pushed the door open, then rushed inside, seconds before lockdown shut him in there.

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Sergeant Major Norton blinked. He'd served with the Regiment for around three years and never had anything like this happened to him. Everything had been turned upside down since this newcomer emerged. No survivors had emerged from the camp and he now had a captive on the loose inside his very base of operations.

Slamming his hand onto the panic button, an alarm sounded and instantly the base went into a state of lockdown. Doors to areas like archives and mess halls were locked, though a few were left open to allow men like him to get around. Activating what was like a tannoy system, he spoke into a microphone.

"All active patrol guards, we have a civilian loose in the compound. He can be easily spotted, with a pinstripe suit, brown coat, trainers and messy hair. He's smarter than he looks, and when you find him bring him to me alive."

He smiled to himself as he continued speaking.

"I want to teach him some manners."

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**Sorry it's been a while, but my priorities are in a state of flux, so I can't update as much as I'd like to. Hope you enjoyed the chapter...**


	6. Once Were Heroes

**A/N: I've redrafted this so many times and guess I owe you guys an update. I'm working on this version for better or worse!**

**For any new readers, this is the Tenth Doctor.**

The Doctor now sat in the archives room, fngers now sweeping the keyboard as he attempted to search for the information that had been denied for a while. Erebus would indeed be colonised and become the centre of this galaxy's commercial boom as he had mentioned, but to his knowledge from previous visits, the military were higher in number than just a couple of camps and a bunker.

Finally finding the folder he wanted, he expertly moved the mouse and double clicked, opening it before he maximised it and skimmed to the section he wanted.

Then his jaw dropped as he realised he had made quite a mistake. No, quite a mistake was an understatement. Such an understatement that it made most of his past errors look like drawing mistakes rubbed out by the biggest pencil erasers ever invented. He made a mental note to go and check if the rumours of a giant eraser tree past the far reaches of the Horsehead Nebula were true, then focused again.

_January 22__nd__, 2645. Written by First Lieutenant Peter Olssen. The fifteenth ship in two-hundred years of attempted colonisation is the first to land. On the voyage down, I half expected to hear (Communications Officer) Hammett screaming that the engines had given out, the ship was burning in the atmosphere, or we had simply lost power. I suppose it's not too irrational a fear, given that fourteen ships and two hundred and ten men before us died under some bizarre circumstance. _

_It's not that burning in the atmosphere is weird as such, but the ships that lost power or their engines were perfectly healthy. Powerful destroyers and durable heavy attack vessels that survived the Great Secession with little more than a scratch just failing like that, even with good service and the most competent crew. That's not normal power loss, not by a long shot. Want my opinion? If you're reading this, chances are you're interested enough to care about it._

_The power and engine losses, in my opinion, were caused artificially. Who'd want to do this? I don't know. Possibly some secessionist seeking to keep the armed forces of the empire away from his front hedge, which would make sense. Yet why secede and hide here? It's cold, and at the moment pretty darn inhospitable. No, I think something else is here._

Doctor double checked the date first, and finally the thought of displeasure hit a switch in his brain. As his heartbeat increased, his brain finally got around the gaping issue. The Doctor, when first captured by the Sergeant Major's forces, had said that colonisation had begun in 2543. This report said that colonisation attempts had begun somewhere in the 25th century.

Why was humankind behind in its progress?

Doctor heard shouts outside, and through the muffled yelling he heard the mention of high power explosives. He desperately redoubled his technological efforts, scrolling down faster until he stumbled onto the next report.

_January 27__th__, 2651. Written by Commander Norton of the 23__rd__ Ridleybank Marines with aid from Sergeant Daigo of the Psychiatric Department, as well as numerous testimonies from officers who have demanded their names remain classified._

_The report contains a psychological summary of Captain Peter Olssen, as well as summary progress on colonisation._

_It is a fact acknowledged that Captain Olssen may well be one of the best officers chosen to oversee the Erebus colonisation project, having landed with the first successful ship to make it through to Erebus. Since his landing, however, Olssen has degraded from Empire hero and flagship soldier of his kind to paranoid, weak and complete scandal. In his few weeks of R&R, which he took without hesitation, several officers note he constantly remarked under the influence of alcohol that something was looking at him from inside the shadows and seeking to drag him to the family's plot of land in his hometown's cemetery. Progress has gone from improbable rapidity to below expected, and construction on the second bunker has been delayed due to the mismanaging of numerous materials and personnel on the Captain's behalf._

_A lesser known fact is that two of Olssen's relatives were killed during the earlier attempts of colonisation, both an uncle and one of his grandparents. The loss, while affecting his career choice, was not responsible for his sudden breakdown. Many believe he is stressed the project will meet its end and is simply hoping it does not after six years of success. In any case, he does not meet the recommended mental stability for leadership of this project. I am proposing that Olssen be demoted a few ranks and transferred to somewhere of lower importance._

_Additional notes: Before he could be reassigned, Captain Olssen shot himself, claiming he had damned the family name just before doing so. Commander Norton was reassigned and transferred to the newly formed 237__th__ Ridleybank Regiment, where he was given the rank of Sergeant-Major._

The Doctor heard loud hammering against the door, and he hoped the adjustments made by the sonic screwdriver would give him enough time to view the last file and make an escape to another terminal. His hand constantly pulled down at the mouse as he attempted to see the last file.

_3__rd__ June, 26-_

There was a low, monotone beep that echoed in the Doctor's ears, and he desperately pushed his sonic against the screen, desperately attempting to keep the computer running so he could view the file.

"I wouldn't advise trying to use the sonic on the computer. It will only lock all the terminals quicker, and that will not aid you in your research."

Doctor looked up in sudden surprise, the hologram of a fourteen year old child standing before him.

"Who are you?"

"I believe the correct question is _what_ are you, not _who_," the hologram retorted. "I am technically nothing, only existing as an artificial intelligence based on a known person to somebody working here."

Doctor scowled.

"I don't like that. I'm used to humans keen to spin off a whole load of correcting terms, but to be frank when computers do it they annoy me. And, while we're here, you're _artificial_ intelligence." He paused for a second, letting the words sink in. "Artificial. Definition in my version of the Oxford English dictionary reads as… one, made by humans, produced rather than natural. Two, brought about or caused by sociopolitical or other human-generated forces or influences. Three, made in imitation of something natural; simulated. Four, not genuine or natural."

Silence for another few seconds.

"To me, you fit pretty much all those definitions to the full stop. Made by humans to serve, possibly in the wake of a previous crisis here, a simple creation that tries pleasing itself by badly copying a boy genius. I've known a few, and they're nothing like you."

The AI's hologram formed a frown, and were it actually alive, it would now be contemplating whether to let the man continue talking or to attack him, possibly hurling him into one of the few bookshelves.

"Name one," it simply challenged.

The Doctor paused for a second.

"Well, I don't like being vain, but… me. Then on the less vain side, there's an American who made a carbon dioxide free way of running automobiles- for which had the help of some of the greatest strategists and warriors in the galaxies, before they betrayed him and died in the aftermath with him," he remembered not so fondly. "Then there's the great child prodigy of Carrrycas IV who would have sold the economic problems if the stress of politics had not led to civil war, and of course, I knew a few back in my home."

The Doctor's previous tales hadn't been exactly the happiest ones for him to ever recite, but at the last one, his eyes went dark and his stare briefly diverted away from the fake child that stood in front of him, as if doing so would turn him to stone. His voice shook just a little as he began speaking once more.

"Anyhow, my point is you're artificial intelligence. All my knowledge in here is genuine, actual intelligence." Here, he tapped at his head and smiled, but there was more warmth to be found in a glacier.

"You're just the product of second-hand intelligence."

At this, the child tried bowing its head and faking tears, but if it had wanted to keep the illusion, it had broken it not long after it first appeared. Realising its effort was in vain and that the Doctor wasn't going to be that easy to fool, it looked up at him again.

"Maybe I am."

Then the bang echoed around the room, and the Doctor flinched, coughing a little from the smoke that the explosives had caused. Dazed, he attempted to prop himself with another bookcase-

-only to find the barrel of a magnum pointed at his left temple. Normally, he would have been able to knock it away and disappear in the confusion, but right now his head was struggling to cope with the flashbang one of the squad had thrown in. Even if it hadn't been, there were three riflemen stationed around the entrance probably under orders to maim or cripple, and he didn't feel like remaining in a wheelchair for the rest of this incarnation.

"It would appear as if I have held you up," the teenager muttered, going back into a monotone and more mechanical voice for a second. The Doctor knew it was for deliberate mockery, and he managed to get his mind back in control before an angry response left his mouth.

"Still, Doctor…"

The Time Lord shook his head for a few seconds, then popped his ears and turned his head to face the "teenager".

"That's the problem with us geniuses. We talk too much."

With that, the Doctor was led away, more forcefully this time. He turned his head to glare at the child one more time, and then let his captors march him to his fate.

Corporal Haynes stood as tall as he could, his back physically strained from the climb through the area. Now, he attempted to keep himself looking as strong as possible, if only for the morale of the other four survivors. Right now, he didn't think he was up to it, and even if he was he doubted he was putting on much of an act. Men could only try so hard to put on an impression, particularly if they'd been travelling for seven hours and trying to dodge a mysterious enemy.

He'd remembered the tale of Sergeant Dragan Nastic, the man who had led a past platoon through the third Great Earth War during the campaign of what had then been Belgium before its three major states had divided or merged with other countries. Nastic had always given compliments to his fellow soldiers and, if rumours which had been distorted into myth over the years were to be believed, he had charged a gun nest single-handed when the artillery had failed to do its job and his heavy weaponry had been unavailable. To top it, he'd won- though admittedly a few seconds longer and he'd have been fried.

To his men, he had been a hero, more so than the men who hid behind sheets of bulletproof steel and layer after layer of protective materials designed to withstand a fifty-megaton blast, ordering them into the maw. Dragan had been out there and tried to make sure each of his men came through alive; his superiors had sulked underground with disregard for every soul that they allowed Death and his friends to harvest.

There are numerous sayings about great men, be it that they are forged in the hot fire of war like iron in a blast furnace, or that they shine brighter than the ones they serve. For Nastic, outside of sight it was the polar opposite. When nightfall came and there was enough time to make sure he could sober up afterwards, the sergeant drank heavily and smoked a mile or so from the main camp, not wanting his comrades to see the remains of a man he'd secretly become. It was not to remain a secret for long, though.

Eventually, the time had come when the new capital of what was then the Netherlands came under siege, where the last of the five scumbags had dug himself into a hole and attempted to drag the newly liberated Belgium with him. Nastic had tried his best to keep a straight face and a steady leadership, but towards the last stages of the battle his insanity dragged him into the pit he had gradually been digging against his will. The sergeant's discipline forged itself into something horrifically difficult, and a few historians reckon that he had pulled his knife and violently skinned six POW's. As the final street was cleared, Nastic added one final kill to his tally- himself.

At this, Haynes snapped back to the present, and realised the bulge of his sidearm was now sticking out. Subconsciously, he realised his right hand had tightened its hold, shaking a little.

_No,_ he resolved. The voice sounded weak, resonating in his head.

**No.** This time the voice was stronger, and the grip on his sidearm relaxed.

_Great men may be broken in the fire of war_, Haynes resolved, _but I shall walk through the ashes for better or worse._

He continued on, vowing to stay strong…


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